


How to crack one's marbles

by ImagineYourself



Series: When Boy Meets Arachnophiliac [2]
Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Angsty Schmoop, Attempt at Humor, Blow Jobs, Canon-Typical Violence, Coming In Pants, Conflict Resolution, Crossdressing, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Undertones, Frottage, Harry is an asshole but we already knew that, M/M, Mild Gore, Relationship Negotiation, Rimming, Rough Sex, Switching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-15
Updated: 2017-08-15
Packaged: 2018-12-13 14:02:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11761425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImagineYourself/pseuds/ImagineYourself
Summary: “Wait.” Harry was now leaning over the table. His face was a mix of disbelief and utter disdain. “Boyfriend? Don’t tell me you’re in love with that guy or some shit.”. . .Peter woke on the eighth day to find a severed arm on the floor of his bedroom. And he didn’t, absolutely did not scream and flail around, falling off the bed in his surprise.





	How to crack one's marbles

**Author's Note:**

> Since I got so many requests to continue this, here's the followup. Featuring the resolution with Harry and some more light kink exploration.
> 
> This starts directly after the first part ends.

It was just after classes let out, as Peter was beginning to head home, that his phone buzzed in his pocket. Fishing it out with one hand while his other was busy hiking up his backpack, Peter saw it was a call from Harry.

“Hey, buddy, how’s it going?” He went for a casual tone as he answered, scooting around another student he was on a collision course with.

“Hey, Peter.” Harry sounded a bit relieved. Yet subdued. “Are you busy?”

Weaving and bobbing, Peter made his way through campus. “Not really. What’s up? You sound serious.”

“Uh, heh, yeah. Can I come over? I just wanna talk about some things.”

Peter frowned to himself but replied, “Yeah sure. I’m heading there now, you’re welcome anytime.”

“Okay. Thanks. I’ll see you later.”

“Sure.”

Harry hung up and Peter looked at his phone funny for a moment before replacing it into his pocket. At the nearest alley he could duck away into, he quickly changed outfits to get home faster. After all, he wasn’t sure if Wade was going to be there or not. They’d been a bit vague that morning. And it probably wasn’t the best idea to have him around if Harry wanted to be serious.

He was most likely coming to talk about the other night. Peter was grateful that Harry had made this first move, but he hadn’t exactly been anticipating to have this chat so soon.

Things were weird and all up in the air. Sure he and Wade had exchanged their words of love and had . . . been quite intimate about it, but that didn’t mean that Peter knew where they stood. Were they going to date now? Would Wade not _want_ to date him, but just live in a relationship of mutual love and sex?

Shit, this was confusing. Peter shook his head and continued home.

He arrived to find the place empty save for a Deadpool mask left behind on his bed. Taking it between his fingers, Peter smiled.

Disgusting. He was acting like a lovesick tween, clutching the mask to his chest before setting it on his desk, at least somewhat out of view. With a sigh, Peter put his own suit away and made a sandwich for himself while he waited for Harry.

Harry didn’t take long.

Peter let him in after the knock on his door and admitted a very tired looking Harry.

“Thanks for letting me come by, Pete,” Harry said, looking like he was about to throw a one-armed hug Peter’s way. Abruptly, the motion was aborted, and Peter noticed the strange expression Harry had on his face.

The door shut and Peter went to the kitchen to put on the kettle, intent on making coffee. Harry looked like he needed one. Or two. “I kind of guessed why you wanted to see me. But I’ll listen to whatever you wanna say.” Peter turned to look at Harry, who was standing nervously. “C’mon, sit down.”

Peter took his own advice and dropped to a chair at the table. He looked pointedly at his friend.

Moving slowly, Harry took the seat across from Peter and put his elbows on the table. “About the other night, I really didn’t mean to make things awkward between us. And I’m sorry about that.”

Peter nodded encouragingly. It seemed like Harry had more to say. The kettle had finished so he stood and poured the water over coffee in two mugs. Returning to the table, he placed one in front of Harry and held the other between his hands. “I only have instant, sorry.”

“That’s fine.” Harry gave a little laugh and looked down. “Listen, Peter, I just wanted to tell you . . . Well, I got really drunk and went about this the wrong way, but that doesn’t mean what I told you wasn’t true.”

With an almost blank look, Peter asked, “What? I don’t understand.”

“I want to try and explain, okay?” Harry was making this weird face at his coffee and Peter was genuinely confused. Truth? What truth? What did Harry say that—

 _Oh._ Wait. No. Harry couldn’t be trying to tell him—

“Peter, I actually like you.”

“I should hope so, we’ve been best friends for years now.” Peter was desperate.

“What I really mean, is that I’m in love with you.” The words nearly burst from Harry’s mouth, like a physical charge.

Peter took in a sharp breath, still and wide-eyed.

But before he could even let out a single noise, Harry reached across the table to rest his hand on one of Peter’s, which were still holding tight to his mug.

Hell broke loose when the door suddenly crashed open.

Wade’s voice loudly proclaimed, “Baby boy, I’m here!” as Peter’s grip crushed the porcelain in his hand, spilling coffee onto the table and his lap. He didn’t even register the heat. Harry was gaping openmouthed at the intruder, his fingers clutching Peter’s.

Wade looked to the two and Peter was staring at him, in absolute horror. “Uh-oh,” the suited man said, raising his hands above his head.

Then Harry yelled, “Who the fuck are you?” at the same time Wade asked, “Hey Petey, who’s this guy and why’s he holding your hand?”

That still wasn’t enough however and Harry immediately turned to Peter to demand, “What the hell is going on?” right as Wade turned to Harry to explain, “I’m Deadpool, Wade Wilson! Nice to meet ya, kid.”

At that point, Peter still had not moved, so struck was he by this, frankly, disturbing chain of events.

So Peter stood, dropping the remaining pieces of his mug to the table. “Both of you, shut up!” he ordered loudly. Wade brought one hand to his mouth and made like he was zipping his lips. When Harry started to say something, Peter glared and repeated, “Shut up.”

Harry looked pissed but Wade was bouncing on the balls of his feet, swinging his hands at his sides now. Peter breathed in, and then out.

“Okay, Harry, this is Wade Wilson. Wade, this is Harry Osborn.” Peter waved between them for introductions. “Now, Wade, please tell me why you just barged in here. You could’ve knocked.”

“That’s no way to make a grand entrance, though! C’mon, Petey-pie,” Wade whined, framing his face with his palms.

Peter just rolled his eyes and silently asked himself why the hell he loved this idiot. The notion of love, however, brought him back to Harry, who was looking more pissed and more confused with every second. He sat back down and heaved a sigh. “Okay, Harry, you get three questions.”

“Three questions?” Harry argued.

“That was one.”

Wade made a sound like a giggle and dropped to the floor, cross-legged.

“Damn it.” Harry shook his head and curled his hands into fists. “Fine. Why is this guy here? Isn’t he like a villain or something?”

“That was two—”

“Wade.” Peter held his finger out until Wade bowed in submission. “He’s not a villain. He’s Deadpool. And he’s here because—um—because he—” Shit, why was this so hard. Peter found himself blushing something fierce and let his eyes bore holes in the table. “He’s the guy MJ told you about.”

“Wha—?” Harry spluttered. “That’s—that’s the guy? That you’ve been—?”

From the floor, Wade was snickering. “Fucking?” he supplied. “Yup! That’s me.”

Peter turned his glare on Wade. “Can you not say it like that?”

“It’s the truth, baby boy. Or would you rather I said that we are in an intimate relationship, one with mutual satisfaction occurring while using our—”

“That’s enough!” Peter said quickly, holding out his hands and waving them to make him stop.

“So . . .” Peter looked back at Harry, who appeared to be gathering himself. “You’ve been fucking this—this monster?”

There was silence for all of three seconds before Peter stood. “Don’t call him that! What the hell is wrong with you?”

Harry stared straight at him, gaze cold. “He’s Deadpool, right? The guy who murders for a living? How the fuck did you even get mixed up with this freak?”

“Don’t say that shit!” Peter shouted. “He’s not a freak. He’s a human, Harry.”

Scoffing, Harry muttered, “Barely.”

Peter narrowed his eyes. He raised a hand and pointed at the front door. “Get out.”

“Why? I’m just telling the truth.”

God, he sounded so fucking petty and bigoted and honestly, what a fucking asshole. Peter wasn’t just going to sit by and let someone say that kind of shit, especially with Wade right there, listening.

“Get out, Harry.”

Harry’s face twisted into something ugly and furious. “Fine. I already said what I needed to, anyway.” He stood and went to the door, not even looking in Wade’s direction. Neither Wade nor Peter moved. At the door, Harry turned back and told Peter, “Think about what I said. If you want something better than _that_ , call me.”

The door clicked shut loudly and Peter could hear Harry’s footsteps stomp away, down the hall.

For a long moment, Peter didn’t even move, barely breathed. Then he slammed his fist onto the table, jolting it and making the broken pieces of his mug clink together. “Fucking . . .” Peter didn’t even want to say what he was thinking aloud.

When he turned to Wade, he was sitting still, head bowed.

Peter slunk to the floor, unheeded by the coffee that had dampened his shirt and pants. That didn’t even matter now. Reaching out slowly, Peter touched Wade’s shoulder. When Wade stayed still, Peter moved closer and sat behind the merc, his legs splayed and his arms circling Wade’s chest.

“Hey,” Peter whispered.

Wade didn’t respond so Peter reached up to pull the mask from his face so that he could place his forehead against the back of Wade’s skull.

“Nothing he said was true, okay? None of it. You are _not_ a monster.” Peter took a breath, tightening his hold around Wade’s body. “You’re Wade Wilson and you’re the man I’m in love with.”

It felt almost surreal to be saying it. After all, the previous night he’d said it while they were also collapsed on the floor. This time, the tables were turned.

“And I’d—” Peter choked a little bit, a lump in his throat forming. “I’d _never_ choose him over you.” He said it in a whisper, unable to do much else. He just held onto Wade and pressed his face into the other man’s neck, hoping it was enough.

After a few long moments, Wade patted Peter’s hands on his chest and took a deep breath. Peter felt him release it, then say, “Thanks, Petey-pie. I can take it from here.”

Peter frowned worriedly as Wade unhinged him from himself and stood. “Wade, are you okay?”

“Yeah.” Wade turned to him with a smile, but Peter couldn’t read into it any further.

He was still frowning as he asked, “Do you wanna stay?”

“Nah. I’d best take a little schmooze around town and let you do your homework, or whatever.” Waving a hand flippantly, Wade turned halfway to the door. Then, as if remembering something, he turned back and held out a hand to help Peter up.

Peter took it gladly and handed back the mask he’d removed. “How many of these do you have anyway? You left one on my bed earlier.”

“A bunch? No idea. I go through them regularly,” Wade told him, chuckling a little.

A gentle smile replaced the worried look on Peter’s face. He stepped right into Wade’s personal space and let his hands hover over the merc’s waist. “Can I kiss you before you go?”

Wade hummed quietly. “. . . before you go-go, don’t leave me hanging here like a yo-yo.” He caught Peter’s laugh right against his lips before they kissed. It was soft, nothing special, but Peter adored it. That he could touch Wade with gentle hands and show him through sweet caresses just how much he cared.

“I love you, okay?” Peter breathed, backing up.

With a look that said he might cry, Wade turned away and left. Peter stood there for a few minutes, just looking at the door.

Then he went back to the table to clean up the mess he had made.

 

. . .

 

It was eight days before Peter saw Wade again.

He’d tried to give him some space, knowing how so much had happened in just a few days. Peter himself needed a little bit of time to process as well, it was a lot to take in. How his life had changed in just a few weeks was, well, _much_.

But after three days, he tried finding Wade and came out with empty hands. He tried calling, every number he could find, but there were no answers.

After five days, he tried again, hoping it had been enough time. Nothing.

Six days left a bad taste in Peter’s mouth.

One week had him worried sick, running himself ragged trying to search the city, trying to find something, _anything_.

Peter woke on the eighth day to find a severed arm on the floor of his bedroom. And he didn’t, absolutely did not scream and flail around, falling off the bed in his surprise.

“What the _fuck?_ ”

Footsteps got him to look at the doorway, where Wade came into view, half unsuited and missing an arm. Well, actually. Oh, Peter was going to throw up because there was some ugly fleshy mass protruding where his arm should have been.

Peter looked at the arm on the floor, then at Wade, then back to the floor. When he looked up again, Wade was waving his one hand around, saying, “Oh oops, I didn’t mean to leave that there.”

“You didn’t . . . you _what?_ Why is your arm there in the first place?” Peter nearly screeched, scrambling to his feet.

“Uh, well, it’s nothing to worry about.” Wade shrugged, sort of, and gave an attempt at a smile that seriously failed. “I’ll just, ah, get that.” With measured steps, he walked to the arm where it lay near the window and bent to pick it up. He waved it a little, the hand moving like no hand should ever move and Peter _knew_ he was making a disgusted face, looking at it with nausea.

Then he remembered that he was supposed to be surprised Wade was there at all, not just about his limblessness. He rounded on Wade with a pointed finger at the ready and asked hotly, “Where have you been? I’ve been looking all over for you!”

Wade gave an expression like a grimace and backed out of the room.

“And what are you going to do with that arm?” Peter demanded, following closely, uncaring for his own state of undress. He stared Wade down when the merc stopped moving.

“I’ll get rid of it,” Wade assured quickly. “And I’ve been around, y’know.”

Peter knew that Wade was purposefully dodging his questions. Shoving his pointer finger into Wade’s chest, he said, voice low, “Tell me the truth. I haven’t seen you in a week, Wade.”

With a grimace, Wade’s shoulders noticeably dropped and he looked away from Peter’s face. “I was out of town, underground. Stayed out of trouble though! Mostly.” He still had that damned arm in his hand and waved it around again as a gesture.

It was a gross display, but Peter stepped back and deflated. “I was worried about you. I couldn’t get a hold of you at all.”

“Nothing to worry about, Petey-pie!” Wade told him cheerfully.

“Fine.” Peter let out a breath as he went to plop onto his couch. “How’d you lose the arm?”

“Now that’s a funny story!” Grinning, Wade bounced in place while he explained, “I said I was underground, yeah? Well I was like _underground._ Like I found these fucking awesome tunnels and shit and I went exploring because why not? Turns out, those tunnels were real old smuggling tunnels. But they weren’t abandoned! I found some group that was still using them, smuggling stuff, and they didn’t like that I found them. I told them I wasn’t gonna tell anybody, they could continue business as usual!”

Wade winked. “But those guys were way too serious. They wanted to fight. But you know me, I can never turn down a challenge! So, like a boss ass bitch, I took a few of them out until they surrendered. That was a lot of fun.”

“I don’t see how this pertains to your missing limb,” Peter said, slouching into the cushions.

“I’m getting there! Now, I found my way out of the tunnels, blew up the entrance, and got my cute little butt the fuck outta there. Then I figured, ‘I should probably go home and restock on ammo and shit,’ but when I got back to the city, I thought, ‘I should see Petey!’ Now I’m here!” Wade finished with a flourish that Peter thought might send the severed arm flying across the room. Thankfully, it didn’t.

So Peter pointed at the thing. “Now that. What happened between you getting to the city and getting here?”

Wade made that almost smile face again and it was unnerving. “See, that’s where things get a little wonky. I was making my way over here, when some asshole sniped me. Got me right in the head. But I healed up and went after him. Some other dude came at me on the street and he had some cool tech shit. Probably Stark brand. Then, get this, he stakes my arm to a wall!

“I’m standing there like, ‘Oh no he didn’t.’ I’m trying to get out, Sniper hits me again, and the guy on foot gets another stick in my arm! I was bleeding all over, could barely even get my gun out—”

“Wade, could you hurry it up already? Not that it isn’t riveting to listen to your stories, but I don’t really need the gory details,” Peter interrupted.

Wade looked offended. “It’s all in the details, Petey! No story is complete without every detail meticulously retold.”

Rolling his eyes, Peter waved a hand dismissively. “Whatever.”

A grin was his answer. Then Wade launched back in with, “These guys really like my arm, see, trying to hold me down or something. Honestly, how stupid. I get one of my beautiful girls out and first stab the guy in front of me, then I cut my arm off. I really was stuck there, Pete, believe me, it was the only way.”

“Sure,” Peter muttered.

“But, y’know, I’m a sentimental bastard. So I get my arm free, sling it over my shoulder, and go after the sniping douchebag. He was pretty easy to track, so I took care of him. And since my original plan was to come see you, now I’m here!” With his last words, Wade tossed his arm into the air where it thudded against the ceiling and dropped back to the floor.

Both of them looked at it in silence for a long moment.

“Heh, heh . . . Sorry.”

Peter shut his eyes and breathed deeply. “Well, that’s at least better than what I thought happened.”

“Yeah?” Wade made his way over and sat beside him, keeping his weird regrowing arm away from Peter. That was appreciated. “What did you think happened?” he asked curiously.

Glancing over at him, Peter crossed his arms over his chest. “I thought that maybe, like last time, you went and—”

“Oh.”

Peter huffed. “Yeah.” He was glad he didn’t need to finish that sentence for Wade to understand.

Wade was quiet and Peter couldn’t bring himself to look at him.

“Well, I—” Wade finally started, “—I didn’t.”

Squeezing his eyes shut, Peter clenched his teeth, his throat feeling tight. He leaned into Wade’s shoulder, barely relaxing, but trying to have some sort of contact.

After a while, Wade’s hand settled on Peter’s thigh, and that was just enough.

“I have to go to class,” Peter said when a few minutes had passed. He made to stand, but Wade caught his arm before he could get up. He looked over and saw the strangest expression on Wade’s bowed head.

“Don’t.”

Peter’s lip trembled just a little but he moved back onto the couch and curled up into Wade’s side.

“Okay,” Peter whispered, wrapping his fingers around Wade’s hand.

They stayed like that for a while, just the two of them together, hardly knowing where one melted into the other. Wade was still, silent. Like he was holding his breath.

Peter wanted to tell him it was okay to relax a little and settle down, but he didn’t know exactly what to say. So he was quiet, too.

“Have you talked to that friend of yours lately?” Wade finally said, breaking the calm.

“Harry?” Peter wrinkled his nose. “No. I don’t want to talk to that bastard. Besides, MJ says he’s still acting like an ass about you and me.”

Wade squeezed his fingers for a moment. “Sure you wanna keep avoiding him? Guy’s like your best friend or something, right?”

Pulling away to meet his eyes, Peter frowned deeply. “He sure isn’t acting like it so why should I treat him that way? He’s such a dick.” Peter blew out a breath and looked down. “I already told him that I didn’t want to hook up, I didn’t want to do that with him. Then he comes and tells me he’s in love with me right before he starts cursing my life choices. The hell kind of friend is that?”

“A friend who wants to be more than a friend?” Wade laughed like he was uncomfortable. It was unnerving. “Maybe it would be better if you—”

“ _No._ ” Peter shifted, sitting on Wade’s lap to take the man’s face between his palms. With a steady voice, he said, “I don’t want him like I want you. I don’t want anybody _but_ you.”

Wade stared at him with big eyes.

Peter wanted to kiss him, to show him that he meant what he was saying with more than words. Instead, he curled his arms around Wade’s head and set his chin to Wade’s shoulder, capturing him in an embrace. Wade’s arm came to rest around his back and again they simply sat together transiently.

He didn’t realize he was trembling until Wade asked, “Hey, you okay?”

“Yeah.” Peter wasn’t sure if he actually meant it or not, but he said it into Wade’s neck with a sigh. “I wish you’d stop trying to get away from me.”

“I’m not—”

“Look, I told you that I care about you, right? That means I worry about you when I don’t know where you are or what you’re doing. I don’t need to know everything, just don’t disappear on me like that, okay?”

Wade looked contrite when Peter looked up at his face. “Sure.”

Peter had agreed when Wade asked him to be more open and honest and Peter felt he was justified in asking for the same. He was telling the truth when he said he didn’t need everything, he didn’t want to be the kind of partner to demand attention every minute of every day. But he was tired of losing track of Wade for days at a time. It was different when they were just friends, he knew Wade led his own life and could do what he wanted. When he was disappearing because of things happening between them, it was much harder to deal with.

“Do you believe me when I say I love you?” Peter asked, trying not to falter in the face of what answer Wade might give.

After a moment of contemplation, Wade said, “Sometimes.”

“What can I do to make that ‘always’?” At least that was better than not at all.

“Write it on my forehead,” Wade offered. He cracked a smile and Peter scoffed though he was biting back a grin. “See, even you think it’s a good idea!”

“Yeah, right.” Peter closed his eyes for a long moment, looking pleased. He wasn’t surprised when Wade stole a kiss, splaying his hand on the small of Peter’s back.

“Gonna need you to prove it to me, baby boy,” Wade said teasingly.

“I’ll do my best,” Peter promised. He pressed a smile to Wade’s lips before kissing him.

It was weird, feeling only one of Wade’s big hands on his body. Peter felt like he could slip away any second but it just prompted him to clutch tighter around Wade’s shoulders. He settled his knees more comfortably on either side of Wade, letting more of his weight rest on Wade’s thighs.

Peter’s tongue was doing a little dance with his partner’s and it was so silly and sweet and it felt amazing to kiss Wade again. He breathed a laugh when Wade slid his fingers up Peter’s bare back, tickling him.

“Hey, Wade,” Peter mumbled, his lips moving against Wade’s chin and the underside of his jaw.

“Hmm?”

With a little nibble to Wade’s mottled skin, Peter whispered, “I love you.”

Wade’s hand gripped him around the back of his head, pulling Peter’s lips back up to kiss him hard. Peter slid his own fingers along Wade’s chest, over his pecs and his ribs.

When the kiss broke, Peter saw that Wade’s eyes were dark. Blinking a few times, he leaned in to take another kiss before drawing back to slide his fingers along Wade’s face, around his head. Wade’s eyes slipped shut, his hand falling back to the space between Peter’s shoulder blades.

Peter wanted to give him everything, absolutely everything he possibly could. “I wanna make you feel good,” he said softly, watching Wade’s expression.

“I wanna make _you_ feel good,” Wade replied, meeting Peter’s gaze.

Peter smiled. “What do you want to do?”

Fingers trailed down his back until they reached the waistband of Peter’s boxers and got just underneath. Wade’s hold of his hip was bruising, but he tugged Peter closer. They rocked together, just a little, just enough that it made Peter lose his breath and _ache_.

“This,” Wade groaned, his eyes half-lidded now. “Rub yourself off against me. Cream in your undies just like this.”

Peter barely heard the moan that dropped from his lips. He clenched his fingers around Wade’s shoulders, and crushed his filthy mouth with a kiss. “Talk to me.” The request was barely more than a whisper but Wade answered with a jerk of his hips and made Peter hiss, pain blossoming beneath where Wade’s fingers held him.

“God, baby boy. You’re so fucking sexy. How are you even real?”

Peter didn’t answer but situated himself so he could rut into Wade’s abdomen, just above where his suit was pushed to.

“You look so good like this, Petey. Can’t get enough. Fuck, just looking at your mouth makes me want to kiss you, shove my tongue so far down you choke.” Wade’s hand had softened its grip, but he was still using it to help Peter move.

Not that Peter needed any help, but he liked it nonetheless. He was writhing, his dick sensitive with the fabric of his boxers rubbing against him. Still, it was far from bad. In fact, it was so maddening that he tossed his head back while he moved, his arms loosely over Wade’s shoulders.

“Just like that, baby,” Wade crooned, his words against the skin of Peter’s throat. “Look so hot when you’re like this. Love seeing you so fucked up, just for me. Just for me, right?”

“Yeah,” Peter gasped. Wade rewarded him with a bite that made Peter moan.

“You like that, don’t you? When I bite you? Hold you down in my hands so tight you can’t get away. Wanna see you begging for me, Petey, crying underneath me. You want my cock so bad, yeah? Wish I was so deep in that fucking incredible ass of yours you’d feel me for _days_. Get you all bruised up so everyone could see what I did to you.”

Peter whimpered, moving his hips faster. He could feel Wade’s mouth on his neck, leaving wet trails with his tongue and sending hot sparks through Peter’s spine with his words. God, he felt so fucking good, trapped between desperation to get out of his boxers and come and the need to stay like this for fucking _hours_ , just listening to Wade’s deep voice telling him every fantasy and dirty thought.

“Look at you, baby. You wanna come, huh? I want you to get nice and wet, come all over yourself for me.” Wade growled as he got his hand on the small of Peter’s back again, ushering him forward.

“Shit, Wade.” Peter was so close but so fucking far.

“Not enough for you, is it baby boy?” Wade asked, his tone mocking and laced with sugar. “You always want everything, isn’t that right? Can’t ever get enough, you’re so greedy. You’ve got such eagerness, always want me in that tight little hole of yours or fucking your mouth.” He paused to groan when Peter rolled his hips down particularly hard, having found the right place to tease at Wade’s own hidden and hard cock.

“You want it all, greedy thing you are. Fuck, baby, wanna split you open on my dick, make you ride me like it’s your last night every night. Even if I fucked you every single night the rest of your life it wouldn’t be enough would it?”

“Oh, fuck,” Peter moaned. “Yes, fuck, I want you.”

“That’s right, Petey. Only I can give you what you need. Only I know how to make you scream and cry on my fingers or my tongue.” Wade’s voice had dropped so low as he spoke directly into Peter’s ear. His teeth caught his lobe for a moment. “C’mon baby, I know you can come on me like this. You’re so fucking close.”

“God, yeah, I’m close.”

“Yeah you are. Look at yourself, I’ve barely done anything, baby. You’re getting off just from my voice. So hot, Petey. Getting off at just thinking about all the things I could do to you. Anything you fucking want. Keep you in bed for days at a time, keep your ass wide open for me and I could just slip right in and fuck you for _hours_.”

Peter let out a long whine, his head dropping so his forehead rested on Wade’s shoulder. He could barely open his eyes for how tight they were closed, his hips shaking and shuddering where he was trying so hard to rub into Wade.

Wade chuckled into his hair and took hold of his hip again, keeping him moving even when Peter’s breath caught in a sob. “You’re so close, baby, just a little more. You gotta come for me, though, right, sweetheart? Let it all out just for me.”

Peter was trying so hard to breathe, to get through this burning inside of him, losing track of time and space and if he was even still moving.

“That’s it, that’s it. Shit, you’re so fucking beautiful. I want you to come all over me, got it? I wanna feel how much you love me. Fuck, baby, I love making you like this, love feeling you lose your fucking mind with me.” Wade seemed to choke a little, but he started to finally move, too, pressing his clothed dick against Peter’s ass.

“Oh, god, Wade. Fuckin’—c’mon,” Peter panted. “I need to come so bad, fucking Christ.”

“You’re almost there, Pete, you can do it.” Wade groaned loudly, his mouth finding the side of Peter’s neck as he lifted his head high enough to pant his gasping breaths into Wade’s skin. “Fuck, you’re so good. So fucking pretty and good. Just thinking about getting in your ass makes me wanna throw you down, take you for days. You swallow me up so fucking perfectly, baby. God, you’re amazing.”

“Wade, Wade!” Peter cried. He jerked his hips, pressing his cock tight to Wade’s stomach, once—no, twice more before he was coming. Coming so fucking hard he was seeing _stars_ behind his eyelids. His fingers were somewhere along Wade’s body, squeezing tightly.

“Fuck yes, just like that. Oh, Petey, you did so good.” Wade was moving still, getting Peter through the spasms. “So fucking beautiful.”

Breathing hard, Peter blindly searched with his mouth until he found Wade’s, kissing him with weak lips and a squirming tongue. “Mm, Wade,” Peter muttered. Wade’s mouth was so good, so desperate and rough, kissing him with fervor.

“Petey, baby, I gotta—please,” Wade whined, his hand clenching around Peter’s waist.

Peter looked at him with dazed eyes, taking in his scrunched up face and pink, bitten lips. Sliding a hand down his chest, Peter shoved his hand into Wade’s suit to his hard cock. The fit was tight but there was just enough room for Peter to rub his palm over Wade’s head, his fingers playing with the shaft.

Wade moaned, high and needy, burying his face into Peter’s neck. He came fast, Peter’s hand getting sticky but he kept rubbing until Wade softly whimpered.

Leaving his hand there for another moment, Peter got his free hand up to cup Wade’s cheek and kiss him slowly.

“So good,” Peter whispered into the corner of Wade’s mouth. “Did so good.”

Wade just hummed and held onto him, wrapping his arm around Peter and hugging him close. Peter pulled his hand out from the Deadpool suit and grimaced to himself, wiping his hand on his already come stained boxers. He felt Wade’s laugh against his chest.

“Not my fault you’re messy,” Peter grumbled.

“All your fault.” Wade gnawed at Peter’s neck annoyingly until Peter pulled himself away, shoving at Wade’s shoulders. “Noo, come back. You taste so good,” Wade groaned, not even opening his eyes.

“Gross,” Peter commented. He relented though and resettled into Wade’s body, content to just relax bonelessly for a while.

Or, at least, he _was_ relaxed until something warm but kind of rubbery feeling slid against his back, prompting Peter to jerk away violently, nearly falling to the floor.

“What the—?”

Wade had his teeth bared in a shit-eating grin and lifted up his partly healed arm, now complete with a tiny hand at the end, the fingers flexing and curling. “Look, it’s getting better.”

“Oh my _god!_ ” Peter exclaimed, clambering quickly away and onto the couch, away from the freaky looking hand.

“Aw, come on, it’s just my hand, baby boy!” Wade was reaching towards him again.

Peter squealed and scooted back. “No, keep that away from me! It’s weird!” Wade was still fucking grinning and was now leaning towards him, reaching out.

“C’mon Petey, I just wanna touch you—”

“No!” Peter rolled off the couch and danced away towards his kitchen, hiding behind his raised hands. Wade was just laughing, falling over on the couch and going _mental_. Peter was so shocked and weirded out that he couldn’t even say anything. After a moment, he relaxed a little and drew nearer.

Wade was wiping his eyes and gasping with laughter. “I can’t believe you’re scared of my little hand, Pete.”

“It’s weird!” Peter said defensively. As he got closer, Wade held out his hand, his normal hand, and though Peter was pouting, he allowed Wade to pull him back to the couch and on top of him.

“You’re weird, kid.”

Peter wrinkled his nose. “Don’t call me kid. It makes me feel younger than you.”

“You _are_ younger than me, baby boy.”

“Yeah, well. Shut up.” Peter huffed and rested his head on Wade’s chest. He flinched when the little hand settled on his back, but he didn’t protest. “Grow it back faster,” he grouched.

Wade chuckled and said, “You know, there’s a lot of interesting stuff I can do when one of my hands grows back.”

Peter flushed and felt his stomach tighten with a nervous heat. “No,” he said quickly. “Absolutely not.” Sure, Peter was kind of into doing weird stuff with Wade and that was certainly fun, but he didn’t even want to _think_ about what Wade could be plotting with that . . . thing.

“Okay, okay. Ixnay with the inkkay.”

Rolling his eyes, Peter exhaled a deep breath. “We should shower or something, I feel like I came in my pants.”

Wade’s hands slid along his back. “Well you did. And it was kind of hot.”

“Kind of?”

“I rescind that statement. It was _really_ hot.”

Peter laughed lowly. “That’s more like it.” He shifted a little. “I’m serious, though. I’m all sticky.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Wade grunted as he sat up, Peter going with him. They stared at each other silently for a long minute until Wade pointedly jerked his chin in the direction of the shower.

Pursing his lips, Peter thought for a long moment. Then he leaned forward and took a nice, long kiss. When he stood, he held out a hand. “Coming?”

Wade’s face lit up and he grabbed the offered hand to get up. “Right behind you, Petey-pie.”

A slow smile spread on Peter’s face. Oh, _this_ was gonna be good.

 

. . .

 

Peter was running a few minutes late but he’d already messaged MJ to let her know. They had set up an evening date for coffee and studying for the next week’s exam.

As soon as he was through the door of the cafe, Peter immediately recognized Harry sitting across the room. He almost turned around then and there, but MJ was next to him. Reluctantly, Peter headed towards the two of them, his eyes meeting Harry’s stormy gaze as he approached.

“I see what you’ve done, MJ,” Peter said by way of greeting. He slid into a chair across from her, dropping his bag and pointedly looking away from Harry, who was silently watching him.

It made Peter feel beyond gross. He was sure Harry was smirking.

MJ had her _serious_ face on. “I’m sick of you two fighting and tiptoeing around each other.” When Peter opened his mouth to interrupt, she held up her index finger and glared. “So you’re going to talk about things and _not_ get mad at each other and _not_ cause a scene. Got it?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Peter muttered. He scowled when he saw Harry looking like a smug son of a bitch.

“Got it,” Harry said simply.

MJ visibly relaxed and set her elbows on the table, resting her chin in her hands. “Now, please, one of you tell me what’s going on and we’ll figure the rest out.”

“You mean he hasn’t said?” Peter asked, gesturing at their other companion with a lazy flick of his wrist.

“No, he hasn’t,” MJ answered, setting her glare on Harry.

“I’m right here.”

“Yes, you are.” Peter sneered. Then he leaned forward and looked at MJ while he said clearly, “He told me he’s in love with me.”

MJ nodded like she had expected that. “Alright, so what did you say?”

“He didn’t say a damn thing because that freak barged in,” Harry said, his tone hard.

“Hey, I told you not to call him that—”

“Peter.”

He glanced at MJ again, knowing he was making a face. “Fine. Yes, I didn’t get the chance to respond because Wade came over.”

One brow arched as MJ’s eyes flicked between them for a moment. Then she sighed and sat back, drumming her fingers on the tabletop. “Okay. I see. Harry, you’re upset because Peter’s dating someone else.”

Harry made like he was going to argue, then thought better of it.

MJ continued, “So, Peter is upset because he doesn’t want to date you and you probably said something bad about his boyfriend.”

“That sounds about right,” Peter said. He crossed his arms and stared at the floor.

“There, now we’ve got our issue.” MJ seemed pleased with herself. “Now we need to—”

“Wait.” Harry was now leaning over the table. His face was a mix of disbelief and utter disdain. “Boyfriend? Don’t tell me you’re in love with that guy or some shit.”

Neither Peter nor MJ had an immediate response.

Harry laughed. “Oh my god. You can’t be serious.” He laughed again, grinning widely. “You’re dating a fucking freak of nature and you’re in love with him.” With a triumphant expression, he relaxed back again.

Peter couldn’t look away from him. He . . . he couldn’t believe that Harry was even saying something like this, as harsh as this.

“Harry!” MJ admonished, breaking out of the stupor first. She had turned an icy glare to him. “That’s so fucking rude! You can’t just say shit like that.”

“Why not? It’s the truth.”

Peter unfroze.

What the _fuck_ was Harry’s problem? What a petulant, stupid, completely out of line asshole! Peter was done. He was fucking done. He didn’t have to sit and take this. It didn’t matter that Harry had been one of his best friends for so long and it certainly didn’t matter that Harry was apparently in love with him.

Peter stood slowly, his hands flat on the table. He looked Harry in the eye with all of the fury and hurt that he was feeling.

With an unwavering voice, he said, “Fuck you.”

Walking away was one of the best decisions he had ever made at that point. MJ was calling his name behind him but Peter didn’t stop. He left the shop and stood in the sun to take in a deep breath. As he let it out, he unclenched his fists. He didn’t know when he’d even curled his fingers.

“Peter!”

That was Harry’s voice. Peter ignored it and kept walking.

He only stopped when a hand caught his shoulder and turned him partway so Harry could stand before him. There was an unreadable look in his eyes but Peter was cold.

“Do you even know what you’re getting into with that guy?” Harry asked.

“Yeah, I do.”

Harry frowned and let go of his shoulder. “So you know that he’s just some mutant whose only talent is killing people? You know that he’s fucking insane? You know that he could, and probably will, hurt you?”

“That doesn’t matter—” Peter tried to argue.

“It does! Look, Peter, I’m just worried about you, okay?” Harry sounded genuine, and he was now looking at Peter with drawn brows and clenched teeth. “What if you get hurt? What if you get _killed_? This guy is basically immortal, who knows what he’s even capable of.”

Peter eyed him skeptically. “How do you know that?”

Seemingly taken aback, Harry took a moment before he said, “I just know.”

“How, though? Do you normally make it a habit to know what kind of mutants are around this city?” Peter pressed. He was thinking. His mind was alive and tingling with a question.

“Of course not!” Harry faltered. “I did my research, okay? He’s been hanging around you, obviously I want to know who the hell he is.”

Then it hit Peter. “Did you send those two assassins to try to kill him?”

He knew he had hit the jackpot when Harry’s eyes got wide for the briefest of moments. For a second, he felt victory, then he was horrified because _what the fuck_ his best friend had sent people to _kill_ Wade. Now that—that was more than a step too far.

Peter took a step back. “What the hell, Harry? Why would you do that?”

“I’m trying to protect you!” Harry hissed. Anger had flowed back into his features. Not for the first time, Peter was struck by how hard it was for a guy like Harry to lose.

And lose he had. Peter didn’t want him. What a joke.

“No. You’re not,” Peter told him. “Don’t do that again. And don’t even bother trying to be my friend if you’re going to be like this. I’m living my own life, Harry, and I can love whoever I want without your say.”

Harry’s face fell. “But, Peter, I—”

“Whatever, Harry. I’m going home. Don’t try to stop me.” Peter turned away and took two whole steps before he paused.

“Just—just tell me one thing, Peter.” His voice was so pathetic, Peter looked back. “Please.”

“What?” Peter asked him curtly.

Harry stood with his hands at his sides, his eyes empty. “How? How did you even get mixed up with someone like that?”

The corner of Peter’s mouth curled up. He started walking away again but said over his shoulder, “It’s _my_ job to know the mutants around here. After all, I’m one of them.”

He waved with one hand and left, considering that nightmare over for the moment. Harry would probably ask MJ what he meant. Or he wouldn’t ask anybody at all. Peter didn’t really care, he had much better things to worry about.

Like if Wade was still at his place.

 

. . .

 

He was.

Peter heard him shuffling around the bedroom. He passed the doorway briefly, wearing something black that seemed strange. But Wade went by too fast to see. Ignoring it for a moment, Peter toed his shoes off as he said, “I wasn’t expecting you.”

“I would have asked but I wanted to surprise you.” Wade’s voice was laced with something like anticipation. Weird.

Moseying into the room, Peter asked, “And why—?”

He broke off and nearly choked as he looked over Wade, realizing what exactly he was wearing. He might have tripped over his own feet if he wasn’t frozen in place, gaping.

The black fabric that Peter had briefly noticed was covering his shoulders and arms—the one that had been gone now completely healed—and draping across his back to cinch at his waist. From there was a flowy skirt that barely went over his thighs. And underneath that his legs had sheer black stockings that looked painted right on, accentuating all his thick muscles.

“Holy shit,” Peter gasped.

Slowly, Wade turned to him, showing off the lacy front of the dress which lay flat to his chest, the collar to his throat. He was also wearing a smile that said he knew he looked simply _devastating_ and fuck if that wasn’t the most alluring thing about him.

“What do you think?” Wade asked, oh so innocently.

Peter could barely speak above a whisper as he said, “I’m gonna _destroy_ you.”

He watched as Wade bit his lip. “I’d like that,” he replied softly.

Peter didn’t need any more incentive to reach out and catch Wade’s face in his hands, stepping up to kiss him hard. Wade’s hands settled on Peter’s waist just to pull him closer until they were pressed right up against each other. The blood in Peter’s body was on fire and he _needed_ to touch, had to feel that dress and those fucking legs.

Like now.

“Oh my god, Wade,” Peter mumbled, moving his hands over his lover’s chest, the texture of the lace stupidly amazing on his palms.

“Do you like it?” The words were almost broken, Peter’s lips attacking Wade’s throat to feel the vibrations.

Peter backed off to gather some kind of restraint over himself. “ _Yes_ ,” he managed. “Turn around for me, babe.” His fingers twitched when he took a step back.

Flushed and dark-eyed, Wade did a slow circle, giving Peter plenty of time to take in the whole picture he made. Peter wanted this burned into his eyes so he’d never stop seeing it. Fuck, Wade looked absolutely incredible in that outfit. Positively delectable.

“I wanna eat your ass,” came tumbling from Peter’s parted lips. He met Wade’s gaze.

“Oh, fuck yes,” Wade told him breathlessly. He darted in to kiss Peter again even as Peter took hold of his wrists.

Gently, Peter pushed him towards his desk, putting his hands on the surface so he was practically bending over it. Then Peter dropped to his knees, getting his starving hands all over Wade’s calves and up to his knees. The stockings were so silky and smooth and Peter moaned when he saw that Wade was even wearing panties. His skin was only just covered by a sheer layer, black as well, and Peter could see his dick already straining against the tightness.

There was a faint thought in Peter’s mind to rip the fabric right off. Instead, he got his hands under the skirt to palm Wade’s ass, resulting in a moan from the man. Peter’s nose was pressed in tight as he stuck his tongue out to lave over the thin layer that separated him from Wade’s skin.

He could taste the arousal coming off of Wade, or maybe smell it. It didn’t matter. What mattered was getting his tongue in that asshole as fast as possible and mouthing at the fabric until it was sopping wet and Wade was crying with pleasure.

He was halfway there if the sound Wade made was anything to go by.

Peter used one hand to grip the top of a thigh where it met his cheek and the other to reach around and palm at Wade’s cock. Peter felt hot satisfaction shoot through him as Wade moaned and jerked forward into his hand, then back on his tongue. In his pants, his dick was so hard it almost hurt, but he couldn’t even care when Wade’s legs were shaking subtly.

“Oh, fuckin—oh god, Petey,” Wade was babbling. He was holding himself up on his hands still, hips moving erratically.

His cock was hot to Peter’s touch, even through the panties, but Peter wanted them to stay on. He wanted Wade to come in them. To ruin them. He’d have to buy a whole new pair.

Peter groaned into his work, running his tongue all over Wade’s hole, getting the panties nice and wet. Above him, Wade was making these soft little whimpers like he couldn’t even breathe and Peter wanted to talk to him so bad, whisper how good he was being, how fucking amazing he was.

Hoarsely, Peter said, “Turn around,” as he retired from Wade’s ass. He took hold of Wade’s hips to help him. Wade looked down and their eyes met so Peter could see the sheen of arousal that clouded his.

When Wade tried to get his hands in Peter’s hair, he pushed them back and told him, “On the desk.”

With a groan, Wade complied, letting his head tilt back. “Shit. I can’t take much more, baby. I’m so close. Fuck, the mouth on you.”

“You’re gonna come just like this, Wade. Soil these so you can’t even wear them again,” Peter told him. He leaned in to mouth at the fabric over Wade’s dick, feeling the flesh twitch under his tongue.

“Pete, baby—” Wade broke off in a loud moan as Peter pushed a finger up to the edge his hole and rubbed around, the spit wet panties still a barrier. “ _Fuck—_ ”

With his other hand, Peter was clutching at Wade’s thigh, probably hard enough to bruise. He absolutely loved that Wade was losing himself, rocking his cock against Peter’s mouth and rolling back onto his teasing fingers, just short of breaching him.

Peter’s tongue dipped down, to where his balls were cupped in the palm of his moving hand. He kitten licked his way around the area, getting the sweetest noises out of Wade.

“Fuck, fuck,” Wade panted right as Peter got his lips around his shaft, his head tilted. “I’m gonna come, shit, I’m gonna—”

He was anything but silent as he came, harsh pants and moans leaving his mouth on every breath. Pelvis moving all over the place, Peter had to hold him still, pinned between his fingers and mouth, while he milked everything he could from Wade, tasting his come as it soaked through the panties.

When Wade was shaking and limp, Peter leaned back, his fingers wrapped around Wade’s hips to hold him steady. He knew he was grinning and the dopiest smile was returned to him as Wade dropped his chin to his chest and looked back at him.

“Petey . . .”

Before Wade could say more, Peter got to his feet and sealed his lips with a kiss. He got his hands against Wade’s chest again, clutching at the material of the dress. He kissed Wade languidly, so pleased with his work and letting Wade taste the hint of himself on Peter’s tongue.

Peter shifted to lay kisses along Wade’s jaw. “You were so good, babe,” he whispered into Wade’s ear.

Wade hummed. “What about you?” he asked softly.

“Don’t care.”

A hand slid between them to cup Peter through his pants and he gasped, having forgotten just how hard he was. Fucking Wade like that was so intoxicating and good it hadn’t even mattered.

“Can I blow you?” Wade asked, his voice low and sweet.

“Whatever you want,” Peter replied. He let Wade push him back onto his bed, laying on his back with Wade between his legs.

Wade still looked absolutely fantastic, especially now that his face was looking so pleased and satisfied. Really, he could pull off a dress way better than Peter had ever thought or imagined.

With slow movements, Wade unbuttoned Peter’s pants and pulled him out. Peter got a hand around the back of Wade’s head and relaxed, content to let Wade get him off.

The tongue that licked at his dick was gentle, teasing. Peter sighed, feeling a hand wrap around him and lips slowly follow after. Wade was taking his time, it seemed, his warm mouth getting lower and sucking ever so slightly.

“That’s good,” Peter mumbled, smiling to himself. This was different. Different than anything they’d done before, but it felt so good it didn’t matter. Peter loved it. He loved Wade and anything he could get.

Wade’s tongue was swirling around him, mouth starting to move a little faster, making Peter moan. A stray hand went up Peter’s shirt to pinch a nipple, causing a little jerk of Peter’s hips. It wasn’t taking much to get Peter close, considering how hard he’d been while trapped in his pants without any kind of friction. He tightened the fingers he had around Wade’s skull, urging him to go faster.

Peter sucked in a breath as Wade bobbed his head quickly, using the fingers wrapped around Peter’s dick to jerk him off. He got his tongue in the slit at the top and toyed with the ridge under the head.

That got Peter to come, almost without warning, the orgasm flowing through him and locking him up just before he felt boneless, sleepy.

Wade crawled up his body and kissed him, sharing the come he’d licked up. It might have been gross except Wade’s tongue and lips were so fucking delicious and felt so good pushing and pressing against Peter’s.

Peter’s arms were around Wade’s shoulders, pulling him to collapse right on his chest. “You look so fucking good in that, Wade.”

“Really? I didn’t know you thought so highly of my fashion choices.”

Peter bit Wade’s bottom lip and laughed. “Shut up.”

“You love me and you know it,” Wade retorted, lifting himself up enough to look at Peter’s face.

With a shrug, Peter turned his face away. “Sure.”

Wade made a sound like a growl and dropped his face into Peter’s neck, blowing raspberries against his flesh to make Peter laugh and writhe.

“You’re an asshole!” Peter told him breathlessly, trying to push him off. Admittedly he wasn’t trying very hard.

Wade stopped and flopped to his side. They were facing each other and Peter liked the expression he saw on Wade’s face. Happy and sated and playful and everything he wanted Wade to feel all the time. This was how it was meant to be. This was what Peter loved most.

“Hey, Petey,” Wade whispered.

“Yeah?” Peter asked, just as quietly. They were both smiling at each other like fools.

“I love you.”

Smiling even wider, Peter said, “I love you, too.”

**Author's Note:**

> ngl I feel like all of the sex was ooc?? I'm losing my characterization. But I have one last short part planned to finish this series that is just straight up smut with serious dick in ass business.


End file.
